


...and think of Stargate Command

by Medie



Category: Stargate SG1
Genre: Aliens Make Them Do It, Multi, Public Sex, Sex Pollen, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-04
Updated: 2010-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This kind of shit never happens to us when Teal'c is here," he says with a sigh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...and think of Stargate Command

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sweet Charity for [](http://synecdochic.livejournal.com/profile)[**synecdochic**](http://synecdochic.livejournal.com/) who wanted ' Aliens made them do it/ Cam/Sam/Daniel and Sam and Daniel are all "yeah, whatever", and Cam is freaking out, because THIS WAS NEVER IN THE REPORTS, and the other two are like, hey, c'mere, but Cam's all nervous because WANTS to sleep with them, just not like THIS....' here's hoping this fills the bill! I privately have been calling this fic "Just lie back and think of the SGC..." but that makes a terribly long title so I shortened it a bit.

"They want us to do _what_?" Cameron thunders. In retrospect, that probably wasn't his best choice, but really. What else is a guy supposed to do when his teammates suggest a threesome? Start stripping?

_well..._

He shakes away the thought, staring at Daniel in disbelief. "Jackson, are you fucking kidding me?"

"I am not, no," Daniel shakes his head, just a hint of a grin on his face. The bastard is _enjoying_ this. "It's tradition, Cameron." He pushes up his glasses. "Religious tradition. We're asking them to part with a relic of great importance. Following the edicts of their culture, in order for them to do that, they need something in return."

"And exactly how is a threesome supposed to be fitting in here?" Cam asks, folding his arms. "Frankly, I'm not seeing the connection between a sarcophagus and an orgy."

"Supposedly, they believe a great and powerful goddess slumbers inside. This goddess brings with her rain from the sky, plants from the earth, and all the knowledge of the Old Ones." The look on Daniel's face is downright greedy and, maybe, just a little bit gleeful with shades of something else mixed in there. Cameron refuses to name the something else. Getting that..._excited_ over something several thousand years dusty is just _wrong_.

Especially not when it's probably just the, "Ancients," says Cameron with a scowl. It always comes back to the fucking Ancients. He's really starting to hate those guys. On the surface, they're all pretty and shiny, leaving the best toys littered about the galaxy like a race of hyperactive toddlers. Problem is, for a supposedly-extinct species, they're still pretty damn good at meddling and, as meddling goes, this one is _epic_. This is his damn sex life they're meddling with.

On one hand, it's nice to know he still _has_ one. He was starting to wonder. Worst part of this gig. Best job in the universe, and he can't tell any woman he meets about it, not even when he cancels three dates in a row. Fucking planetary emergencies. If he's not breaking dates, he's neck deep in trouble. He looks at Daniel and the grin on his face and scowls more. Cock deep this time, apparently.

He rests his forearm on the butt of his gun. "I'm still not seeing the Penthouse part, Daniel."

"It's the sexual energy," says Sam, apparently taking pity on him. Her grin is wider than Daniel's. Clearly they're both finding his misery to be hysterical. "The matron said something about an act of that nature releasing enough energy into the atmosphere to compensate for the goddess's departure."

"She's saving face," Daniel explains. "Truth is, they're too afraid to open the sarcophagus and see what _is_ inside."

"So she's making shit up as she goes?"

"More like she's falling back on old faithful. The ancient traditions of their people do call for ritual sexual acts to be preformed in order to usher in a fruitful growing season. These acts supposedly recreate the creation of this world by three ancient deities."

Cameron definitely doesn't remember that one from his Sunday school classes. If he had, he would've paid more attention. "And there're no willing locals?" He can't imagine why.

"It must be done by three strangers," Daniel says. "Tradition."

"Right," Cameron says. "Tradition." He rubs his forehead. He fucking hates tradition. Tradition means stuffy ties, parties at Aunt Betty's on New Years with Uncle Al's fart jokes, and, apparently, getting naked in front of a few hundred aliens. Yeah, he really fucking hates tradition. "We should've brought Teal'c with us."

They look at him, identical blank expressions on their faces.

"This kind of shit never happens to us when Teal'c is here," he says with a sigh.

-

Cameron Mitchell prides himself on being thorough. When he starts something, when he starts an assignment, he _knows_ it. He does his homework. He wants to walk through the door on day one and know where all the bodies are buried. The only surprises he wants are the kind that you get racing daylight across the horizon.

That's the kind of thrill he lives for. He's made his life chasing them, a whole lot of thrill-seeking tempered by a lot of caution. His father's 'devil-may-care' attitude mixed with his mother's 'look-before-you-leap' wisdom to churn out a combination that's wholly him. Cam likes making the leap, but not without knowing how hard he'll fall. No fun without knowing the risks. He does his homework.

He did it with the SGC. Knew if he was going to make the biggest leap of his career, he had better fucking well know the terrain he was landing on. He read every single mission report, talked to every person who wanted to listen, and he knew everything he could know. He knew everything cold. Knew it inside and out. Could, still can, quote whole sections of mission reports at will.

He _knew_ it. Then he went off-world and found out the truth; he doesn't know a fucking thing.

-

"So," he says, trailing off. They're walking out of the clearing, following a suspiciously yellow - he's not making any comparisons - bricked path, into a forest full of pastel-tinged trees. Sam's walking just behind him, her boots crunching the odd twig and leaf, while Daniel wanders ahead. He feels Teal'c's absence like a new haircut, wind whistling in places it's not supposed to, oddly exposed and vulnerable. None of the others seem bothered, but that's nothing new.

He idly wishes a pox or two on Jack O'Neill. The General's probably laughing his ass off, but Cameron's not going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. He might be the rookie on the team, he might be completely in over his head and have no business trying to lead a team of veterans, but hell if that's going to get in his way.

"So?" asks Sam, falling into step with him. "So what?"

He doesn't grin, isn't thrilled to have her attention like that, but his step grows a little more relaxed. Confidence easing his posture. "The Tok'ra."

She nods. "Yes, the Tok'ra. What's left of them." Her expression darkens, just a little, and his step falters. Sam's got history with the Tok'ra. He knows some of it, knows what the reports and the scuttlebutt tell him, but he also knows there's a lot more. More that never made it into the reports. Like every other thing O'Neill 'forgot' to mention.

Cameron squares his shoulders, determined to keep going now that they're on the subject. "Why didn't we just pass this along to them? I get that the Tok'ra and the Jaffa still aren't playing nice and the Jaffa would rather walk barefoot over glass than help them, but – "

"We did tell them," Sam says. "As soon as Teal'c sent back the information, I contacted the Tok'ra – " this time the 'what's left of them' hangs unspoken in the air " - and told them about the planet, but they don't have the resources to spare right now." She smiles, it's sad and worn. "We said we'd check it out. After everything - " the 'we did to them' is suspiciously absent " - it's the least we can do."

It's explanation enough. He knows there's an encyclopedia's worth of unspoken information left out, but he also knows it's none of his business. He knows the SGC bungled things with the Tok'ra, more than once, and he knows Sam's caught the brunt of it. He also knows the pain of losing her Dad isn't as far gone as she thinks. They've been friends for years, he knows just how bad it was. He remembers the nights spent ignoring his own discomfort, listening to her voice on the phone. He swallows quick, pushing the memories back, and looks at Daniel. "Watch it, Jackson."

Sam follows his gaze and grins. Daniel, tilted precariously over a gully, looks back at them with confusion. "What?"

"You fall down there and get eaten by some local whatsit, I am _not_ explaining it to O'Neill." He hides a grin when Daniel gives him an annoyed look and complies. "You know," says Cam, "when I took this job, nobody said it'd be like herding cats."

Bumping hips with him, Sam grins. "Of course. If they did, you would have never taken the job."

He feigns stumbling, shooting her a playfully grouchy look. "Yeah, well, that's the way with you guys, isn't it? Hook him now, tell him later?" He's only halfway kidding. He's not sure anyone in the SGC - SG1 especially - even remembers how to give a straight answer. It would be annoying if it didn't give him plenty of wiggle room of his own. He's developed serious appreciation for wiggle room with this job.

She arches one eyebrow. "Oh come on, Cam, we're not that bad."

"We are," says Daniel.

"_Daniel_!" Sam protests.

He shrugs. "We are."

"See?" Cameron says, waving a hand at him. "Even he says so."

Sam rolls her eyes. "We aren't," she says as he grins at the face she makes. "Really."

"Pull the other one," says Cameron, lifting a leg. "It lights up and plays 'God Bless America'."

Shaking her head, Sam pushes him toward the path. "We should keep moving. We're running out of daylight." She takes point again, leaving them to bring up the rear.

Behind her back, Cameron and Daniel share a grin. Cameron's maybe a little wider than Daniel's.

"I saw that!" warns Sam.

This time, Daniel's grin is ear to ear.

-

Sometimes, Cameron wishes he made it into the SGC earlier. A fight against the Goa'uld he can handle. Get into it, teeth to teeth, wits against technology, and an enemy he can take a swing at. The Ori drive him nuts. They're mist and phantom, always twisting away out of reach, and he can't get one good shot in. He's no good with ducking and running, a glorified verbal scorched earth policy as battle strategy. He feels helpless. Like he's back in traction with an itchy nose he can't scratch.

Missions like this feel like a throwback to the days when Apophis was king and they flirted with disaster every time they went through the gate. He's loving every second of it. "A sarcophagus," he says. "You think the Jaffa saw right?"

Daniel shrugs. "Sarcophagi are hard to miss." He sounds bored, his earlier excitement lost in the long walk to the village, and Cameron's gob-smacked. This is the part that he can't quite get his head around. Hasn't been able to from the first time someone looked him square in the eye and said the word "alien" and fucking meant it.

_How can this get boring? _

"Yeah," he tips his head, nodding. "Got a point there." He lets the easy dismissal slide off him. It's not personal. He keeps reminding himself of that, figuring sooner or later, it'll sink in. These guys have been around the block a time or two. He looks over Daniel's head and sees the not-quite-sympathetic look on Sam's face.

He smiles and nods. He gets it. He does. Okay, he's trying to. He's starting to see how this job can really fuck you over if you let it. It's come dangerously close with him already. He knows the shitstorm the Stargate program's put Daniel through. When he thinks about it, he thinks it's a fucking miracle the guy's still together, no matter what the shape he's in, or how many mood swings he goes through in the run of a day.

Daniel looks at him, _really_ looks, and smiles. "We don't have it yet."

Waving a hand, Cameron ducks a branch. "Relax, Jackson, I'm not counting chickens just yet." But he'd like to. He thinks how close they've come to bringing back a functional sarcophagus, how it never quite worked out, and his heart pumps faster. The damn things are dangerous as all hell, everyone in the SGC knows it, but he thinks of all the bodies they've buried – "Okay, so I might be lining up my eggs."

Sam grimaces and he smiles sweet as honey. "Bad metaphor?"

She nods. "Very."

Cam resists the urge to cluck. "Moving on then." He stops and looks up, frowning. His hand darts out, lightning fast, catching in Daniel's vest and stopping him dead. In years past, Daniel might have protested. Cameron knows the routine. O'Neill would stop him, Daniel would complain, and the inevitable weapon's fire would shut them both up. These days, Daniel's cut out the intervening steps.

When Cameron stops him, Daniel raises his weapon and looks with him.

Sam slides forward, slinking toward the treeline like one of Grandma Mitchell's tabbies stalking a barn mouse. He holds his breath, watching the trees for any signs of movement with a hand on his weapon, ready to fire if she needs it.

There's a loud crack, a foot on fallen branch or maybe weapon's fire, in the split second he can't be sure. His hand snaps up, levelling his weapon, and he steps forward.

"Wait," breathes Sam, holding up her hand. "It's a child."

Cameron relaxes and tenses again, all on the one heartbeat. It's a child. The threat is minimal, but it's a _child_. He knows how close he came, what might happen the next time, and the knot in his gut just won't go away. Neither will the maddeningly calm voice of experience in his ear.

_Just because it's a child, doesn't mean it isn't a threat._

He shakes away the thought and tries to look not-threatening as Sam escorts the small, blue-skinned (no, scaled) child out of the trees. He/she/it looks afraid, eyes darting from Daniel, to Cameron, and back to Sam again.

"Hey there, little – " Cameron's smile and cheery voice falters. What _is_ he supposed to call – _Yeah._ He shakes his head and smiles. They didn't put this in the manual. Not the official one anyway. Shrugging it off, Cameron falls back on an SG1 standard. "Daniel? Got any chocolate?"

-

He/she/it turns out to be a she. A she by the name of Orta. "You came through the ring?" she asks, suitably mollified by the chocolate bars. "Are you traders?" She's still suspicious, wary, and Cameron knows she has good reason. Even a child as young as she is would remember the Goa'uld. He thinks, this once, it's a good thing Teal'c had business on Dakara. The explanations get tedious.

He pauses, grins, and shakes his head at himself. Turns out he was wrong. "Not exactly," he says. "Though we're open to the idea."

She bites into the chocolate, chewing. "But you are not Jaffa?"

"No," says Sam. "Though we know some."

"Friendly ones," Daniel hurries to add.

Orta looks disbelieving. "Jaffa aren't friendly."

"The ones we know are," Cameron says, trying to sound reassuring. "They were lied to by the Goa'uld." He watches Orta frown. At least, he thinks she's frowning. Her reptilian appearance makes it difficult to judge. He watches more closely, trying to spot the more subtle signs. "But they found out the truth and they fought back."

"We have a friend," Daniel puts in. "His name is Teal'c and he is a great leader among the rebel Jaffa." He smiles. "Perhaps, if we become allies, we will return and introduce you to him."

Orta frowns. "I don't think I would like that."

"Sure you would," Cameron says easily, waving an expressive hand. "Teal'c tells the best stories! You wouldn't want to miss out on _that_ would you?"

Daniel looks over Orta's head, raising an eyebrow. Cameron doesn't need to hear him to know his thoughts on that. He grins, shrugging. Whatever works, right? He tilts his head, his grin saying as much.

With a sigh, Daniel nods. "You really wouldn't," he says, adding a smile. It doesn't look all that convincing to Cameron. He doubts it is to Orta, but she's polite enough to smile and nod.

"Perhaps," she says, skipping ahead to join Sam.

Matching Daniel's stride, Cameron leans over to whisper, "Jackson? You're a lousy liar. Ten years at this job and that's the best you can do?"

"Hey, you're the one who painted Teal'c as Mr. Rogers." Daniel looks at him. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Cameron shrugs. "I wasn't. I was improvising."

"Improvise better," says Daniel.

-

"Yup, that's a sarcophagus," says Cameron. Score one for the Jaffa. They actually got this one right. He looks at Daniel over the golden tomb, raising eyebrows. "Think anybody's home?"

Daniel looks back. "It's in pristine condition. It's possible." He drops into a crouch, careful to avoid touching it. Cameron and Sam keep their distance as well. If someone is home, nobody's in a rush to disturb their beauty sleep. "Have your people been caring for the chamber this entire time?"

The question's addressed to the matron, the woman Orta led them to in the village. Tall, a lighter shade of blue than the little girl, Nial bobs her head in a quick nod. "Yes, we have carried on in this task for many seasons." She passes one scaled hand over the other, a nervous habit they've noticed in the locals. Cameron sees a shimmer of dust fall through the sunlight, landing at Nial's feet. The way it glitters on the way down suggests scales. They shed. _Cool. _

"In all that time, nobody's ever thought about looking inside?" Cameron bites the inside of his cheek as soon as the question's out. _Stupid_. It's never a good idea asking questions like that. Locals tend not to be so helpful when you imply they're idiots.

Nial gives him a bemused look. He thinks. She might be planning to ritually disembowel him - closer to the truth than you might suspect, just ask SG-29 - but he's not going to ask. He's happy to play 'clueless alien visitor' and flash his pearly whites. He just hopes that doesn't translate to 'I want to eat babies' in the local customs. It's happened before. "Of course we have thought of it, many have thought of nothing else."

"But nobody wants to take the risk," says Daniel.

"Yes," says Nial, nodding. "If the goddess wishes her rest, then it is rest she'll have. If she wished to speak with us, she would awake from her slumber and do so."

Daniel catches Cameron's eye with a small gesture. Circling around the sarcophagus, Cameron crouches at his side. "Something the matter, Jackson?"

Rocking forward on his heels, Daniel wobbles, grabbing hold of Cameron's arm to hold himself upright. "Whoever's in there?" He gestures to the lid. Amid the carvings, Cameron spies a small patch of melted gold. Amid the elaborate patterns, its difficult to spot, but looking right at it, it's unmistakable. "Somebody doesn't want them getting out."

Cameron looks up at Nial. "Did you –"

"No," says Nial, shaking her head. The movement is swift and firm, no hesitation. She's not lying. "We would never. There are rituals governing how we may touch the chamber. Rarely do our people even enter the temple. There is simply no need and our goddess deserves her rest."

"Matron," says Daniel. "I think we need to talk."

-

"This was not in the reports," mutters Cameron. Surprise, surprise. Something else SG1 left out of the official record. Though, really, he can't blame them this time. Explaining a threesome to the boys in D.C. would take some doing. He's not sure - at least, he hopes not - that they'd even know what one is. "Do I want to know how many times you've done this?"

Shaking out the material of her chiton, Sam smiles at him. "Less than a lot, more than a little."

Cameron tries to picture the General being okay with this, then cringes. That's just a little too traumatizing to risk thinking about. Seriously. It might be Jack O'Neill, but he's still _General_ O'Neill and a man just doesn't go there with his CO. Even that one.

Frowning, he picks at the scant material that he's supposed to wear. "Sam..."

She laughs. "Just go with it, Cameron, it's not as terrifying as you might think."

He watches her cross the room, already tugging at her uniform. "Easy for you to say," he says, feeling a pout coming on. "You're used to this!"

"And you will be too," says Sam. She tosses the ceremonial clothes at him. "Strip."

-

He looks at them, sees the frank assessment in their eyes, and starts to squirm. They are enjoying this way more than they have any right to. He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. It's getting hot in here, isn't it? He's sure it is, but the pavilion is open to the air and there's a breeze.

"Oh god," he mutters. "I'm blushing."

"Just a little," says Daniel, quite bland. He leans back against a pillar, looking out at the ocean. A tiny grin of amusement is playing about his lips. He is _so_ enjoying this, the bastard. If it weren't so fucking hot, Cameron would hate him on principle alone.

"Relax," says Sam. "It's just sex." There's a tiny grin playing about her lips too. It draws his attention to them and he's fascinated. His eyes watch the way her mouth moves as the grin widens, settling itself into place with all the smug amusement she and Daniel must be feeling.

"It's an _orgy_," Cameron argues. "It was bad enough when it was just us!"

Sam stretches her arms over her head, drawing the thin fabric of her chiton tight across her chest. He can't help it, Cam stares. So does Daniel. Which, they know, is precisely what she was going for. "It's better this way," she says, smiling sugar sweet. "Less attention on us."

"We're the main event!" Cameron yelps.

"Behind a curtain," Daniel says, his tone calm. "Backlit by the setting sun. All they'll see is shadows on a sheet."

"Very active shadows," says Cam. He sounds petulant and he knows it. "You could at least _act_ like you're nervous. I feel like a fucking rookie." He pauses, watching the way Sam and Daniel share a wicked look. "Don't even say it," he warns.

"You started it," says Sam, laughter in her voice. She leaves the window, her sandals slapping the stone floor as she crosses the room. "It'll be fine, Cam," she says, hooking arms with him.

Her hip is warm against his and it sets Cameron to squirming again. Fucking Greek clothing. No way to hide the reaction and why do they have to wear it anyway? Blue-scaled aliens and the ancient Greeks aren't exactly bosom buddies. He scowls again. Fucking Ancients. "Easy for you to say," he says. "You two have done this before." Not that it's in the reports. No surprise there. There's more left out than included. Some day, he's going to get them very, very drunk and pump them for information. He wants to know what they're hiding.

And not just what they're hiding in their togas. Or whatever.

Sam grins, looking past him. Whatever Daniel nods at, he sees in her gaze. Cameron watches the exchange, trying to swallow around the lump of nerves in his throat. He watches Daniel stand up. "Who says we aren't nervous?" he asks. "We've done this before, but we've never done this before with you."

Raising his eyebrows, Cameron musters up a smirk. "I hear it's like falling off a log."

"That's not a very flattering comparison," says Daniel, moving closer. "At least, not for you." He looks at Cameron, eyes left bare without his glasses. It's the weirdest thing. Forget the clothing; it's Daniel without his glasses that Cameron can't get past. It's like he's naked without them.

Daniel. Naked.

Now there's a thought that he really shouldn't be having. A thought that he really, really shouldn't be having. It's that kind of thought that guys like him with jobs like his really aren't supposed to be having. Really. Except it's a very _nice_ thought. A fucking brilliant thought if anyone's asking and he's really enjoying thinking it. He's just got to remember not to have it in their next briefing, because that would be a whole special level of wrong. He swallows again. Dammit. "How the hell do I get myself into these messes?"

Sam laughs, squeezing his arm. "You're just lucky I guess."

"Not the word I'd use," says Cameron in a mutter.

Daniel's fingers, calloused and rough from field work, take hold of Cameron's chin. Held still, Cameron finds himself staring into Daniel's eyes. Daniel stares back, eyes an unearthly blue that's so intense, Cameron finds himself thinking of diamonds and laser stares. It's crazy, but that's no surprise.

It's hard to think straight, looking at him. This is so not happening, this isn't, it can't. He thinks of a thousand different ways this could end so damn badly, but that's the kicker. He's not sure, right now, that he cares. "This is SG1," says Daniel, as if reading his thoughts. His grin is crooked, bemused. "You might want to consider using it more often."

"Stock and trade, huh?" asks Cameron, his voice rough. In the moment, it's hard to breathe. All he can do is stare. He knows that Daniel's going to kiss him. He knows it like he knows his serial number. He knows Daniel is going to kiss him, he's aware of Daniel moving toward him, but he still can't believe it. Not even when warm, dry lips press firmly into his.

It's nothing fancy, more a statement of intent than a kiss. Daniel puts hands on Cameron's hips, tugging his body forward into closer contact. Cameron fumbles, not sure what to do with his hands until Sam is there. Her hands trace the line of his shoulders, passing down over his arms to curl fingers about his.

Her sandal scrapes the stone floor as she steps closer, leaning against him. Her touch is soothing, supportive, and Cameron relaxes into it just a little. He groans into the kiss and squirms, caught between them. "Easy," she says, her voice a soft touch against his ear. Her lips trace the sensitive skin and he shivers, trying to focus on the feeling of Daniel's kiss.

Daniel steps closer, pushing one leg between Cameron's. Crowding him, Daniel's hands push over his hair as they try to find purchase. When they don't, those fingers dig into Cameron's skin, warm pressure against his scalp.

His grip is surprisingly firm and Cameron knows who's in charge here. He rides it out, trying to be content and it's almost working when Daniel pulls away. Cameron holds back the protest which, in his head, sounds suspiciously like a whimper. Except, of course, it's not, because he doesn't whimper.

He _doesn't_.

Licking his lips, Cameron reminds himself to breathe. "Okay..."

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" asks Sam, her lips brushing the back of his neck. It's barely anything, but it's enough to make Cameron's toes curl. "Enjoyed it, didn't you?" Her hands release his to follow the curve of his ass before sliding over his hips, pushing him forward into Daniel.

He looks back at her. "That's the easy part," he says, his grin lopsided. "The hard part is doing it in front of an audience."

She laughs. "I hope that's not going to be the hard part."

Cameron groans and curls his hand around Sam's neck, exerting a subtle pressure to draw her forward. She comes with him easily, angling her body into the kiss.

He kisses her slow, taking his time. He's pictured this. Thought of kissing them both. Not like _this_, but he's thought of it and, if he can ignore the raging panic, he's going to enjoy every second of it.

Bringing up his hands, Cameron cups Sam's face in his palms. Her skin is hot against his as he brushes his thumbs over her cheekbones while Daniel's hands explore his chest. "What's this," asks Cam. "A test run?"

"If you want to call it that," agrees Daniel. "Frankly, I think you're underestimating yourself." He grins and Cameron really misses his glasses. Without them, Daniel's face looks strangely wrong. Like a piece of him is missing. It's funny. Cameron's never noticed that before. He's got a kink for glasses. Who knew he had a glasses kink?

Fuck that, who knew he had a _threesome_ kink?

Warm fingers wrap around his cock, tracing the length slowly. Cameron's fingers tighten on Sam's neck and she smirks. Question answered. Sam and Daniel apparently. "Y'know," he drawls, looking from one to the other, "If I were the suspicious type, I'd think you all went and arranged this one."

And it's totally possible. The mob has less markers to call in than SG1. Cameron's lost count of the planets they've visited, diplomats they've seen, who've given someone on SG1 'the nod'. He feels like quoting the godfather every time they step through the gate.

He watches the amused look pass from Sam to Daniel and back. "Oh like you couldn't," he says in answer to the unspoken comment. "Sam's got people from here to Pegasus and back owing her favors." He tosses a look at Daniel. "We're not even talking about _your_ connections."

"We didn't," says Daniel. He's straight-faced as he speaks, but there's a grin in his eyes. Somewhere behind the mask, deep down where no one will see, he's laughing at this and Cameron realizes something horrifying. In a flash, he realizes that, sometime soon, General O'Neill is going to hear about this.

"Don't tell him," he pleads. "Seriously, Daniel, don't."

Sam looks bewildered, her hand on him stilling, but Daniel just smiles. "I won't." He crowds them, his hands on Sam and Cameron both. "I'm not good with sharing."

-

Actually he is. At least, that's Cameron's decision when Daniel slides two fingers into Sam. His hand moves quickly, with a familiarity that confirms it. They've _so_ done this before. Cam absolutely doesn't panic about that.

Well, anymore than he already is, because he is so, so, panicking. He closes his eyes and presses his face into Daniel's shoulder, relaxing beneath the pressure of Daniel inside him. If he listens beyond the sound of Sam's breathing and Daniel's silence, he can hear the moans and cries of the people beyond them. The locals.

Right. That would be the ceremonial orgy. He swallows hard, dropping his head back as he remembers how to breathe. He is going to calm down. He is. Any second now. It's not that he doesn't have good reason for panicking. He really does. This was _not_ in the reports.

It's just _fuck_. He is having a _threesome_ in _public_ with two of his teammates and he's _enjoying it_. Mostly. The fact there are complete strangers out there, some of whom have to be paying attention, sheet or no sheet, is the part causing the panic. Shit, this can never go in a report. _Never_.

Daniel presses down, his hips pushing forward into Cam again, making him grunt with the pleasured burn of it - but _god_. People. Right there. _Watching_. He shivers. The fucking sarcophagus better be worth it.

Daniel's teeth score across the skin of his neck, down over his collarbone, and Cameron hisses. Fuck, that's good. He turns his head, seeing the sheet through slitted eyes. _Just shadows_, he reminds himself. _Right_. If it wasn't for the locals, this would be a dream come true.

"Stop thinking," orders Daniel. His voice is rough, heavy with the sound of sex (And god, Cameron's going to be remembering _that_ for a while), and Cameron snaps to. The response to the order is automatic and he meets Daniel's eyes.

Daniel smiles, smirks, and his hand moves again. "Watch," he says in that same voice. It's as commanding as any order he's ever received and Cameron swallows, just stopping the 'yes sir' that sprung to his lips.

This is so very fucked up. He squirms, feeling Daniel move forward again, and breathes out. He's so hard, so close to coming, that he can't think straight anyway. Straight. Heh. He snickers.

"_Cameron_," says Daniel. He thrusts in, sharp and hard, knocking Cameron's thoughts into complete disarray. "I said _watch_."

This time, he can't stop it. The "Yessir," springs out immediately and Cameron looks at Sam. She leans over him, her breasts brushing his chest, her fingers skimming his cock with just enough pressure to make him beg. Her mouth covers his before he can, her tongue meeting and teasing his. Cameron buries a hand in her hair, holding tight as he returns the kiss, rising up into it.

The kiss lasts the space of a heartbeat and then, Sam's crying out and shaking. Cameron feels the bite of her nails digging into his shoulder and doesn't stand a chance. He's been ready to come, praying to come, for so long now, it's hard to remember how they started. Staring up at her, he comes too, spilling between them as Daniel pushes in, holding himself above them both. Nervous energy transmutes itself into pure pleasure and the world whites out around him. Cameron hears himself yell, a hoarse cry that carries past the damn sheet and echoes around the valley, spurred on by the ancient temple's design.

He's not sure when Daniel comes, he just knows that when his head finally clears, Daniel is slumped over him with one arm draped around Sam, nestled between her body and Cameron's. It's damn near domestic when Cameron thinks about it.

He doesn't snicker, but he wants to. God, he wants to.

After a moment of breathing, the sound of them harsh in Cameron's ears, Sam lifts her head and grins at Cameron. "There," she says, cheekily echoing her comment of yesterday, "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Daniel chuckles, pressing his face against Cameron's chest, and Cameron can feel it. The vibrations are too much for his sensitized skin. He's still raw from the sex and it's all too much. He squirms, restless, as he wrestles his thoughts into something close to a coherent answer. Coherent for _him_ anyway. He knows his idea of coherent isn't even remotely close to everyone else's.

"Shut up, Sam," he says, laughing as he reaches out. Her body is warm beneath his hand, slick with sweat and come, and he pushes his fingers over her skin. He hears the hitch in her breathing as it makes its way south. "You're going to ruin the moment."

Cameron feels Daniel rise up and knows he's watching, but he keeps going. What's an audience of one more when there's how many on the other side of that sheet? It's crazy to be nervous, not after what they've just done, but he is. He feels Daniel's eyes on him and imagines hundreds of eyes watching their shadows. That tight knot of nerves in his stomach returns and he swallows hard.

"Like falling off a log," he mutters, making Daniel laugh and Sam glare.

"I am not a log," she says, her hand on his wrist, pulling his fingers to where she needs them.

"Believe me," says Cameron. "I noticed." She's hot and wet beneath his fingers and Cameron licks his lips, his fingers sliding around and over her clit. He dips down, teasing a finger around her opening, pleased by the way she groans. "I can't believe we did this."

Sam laughs. "I can't believe it took us this long." She lets go of his wrist, wrapping her arms around neck. Cameron goes with the momentum, letting her pull him closer. He settles between her legs then ducks free of her arms.

"Fuck," breathes Sam when his lips touch her clit. Her hands dance, feather light, over his head and then they're gone. She goes tense beneath him and when he looks up, Cameron finds Daniel kneeling at her head.

Leaning over, Daniel tangles his hands with hers and kisses her. Watching, Cameron feels himself respond. He looks over his shoulder, eyes going to the earthware cups sitting beside the platform.

Right. More than just wine in them thar mugs.

Makes sense. He just wishes they could've done something about the damn nerves. Turning back, he bends his head and licks a strip along Sam, tasting salt and sweet as sweat and fluid mingle together. Her response is a quick jerk of her hips that's accompanied by a low, heated moan.

He grins against her skin and turns his head, playfully biting her thigh. "Stay still."

Sam hooks a leg around his head and laughs. "No." She goes quiet and when Cameron looks up, he finds Daniel jacking himself slowly while sucking on her nipples. Looking past the sight, he meets Sam's gaze. She crooks a finger at him and Cameron grins.

"In a minute," he says, working two fingers into her. "I'm not done yet." That last is said against her clit, his lips brushing it with each word. She mutters a curse and he responds by adding another finger, stroking inside as he sucks her clit.

When he hits the right combination, she comes unglued. Cameron sits back on his heels, hard again, watching her react. After a moment, he moves forward and slides into her, easy and quick.

"_Fuck_," he says when he's in. She's around him, hot, wet, and so fucking amazing he's got to stop for a moment. He's fantasized about this. He's dreamt of it. Woke up with tangled sheets, thrusting into his own come, so many times he's embarrassed to admit it. "Yes."

Daniel lifts his mouth from Sam's body, looking up through rumpled hair at Cameron. The look in his eyes is twin to the one in Sam's and Cameron knows, takes the promise deep. It curls inside him, dark and heavy. The knot that forms in his stomach has fuck all to do with nerves now and everything to do with the assurance that _they will do this again_. Somewhere on Earth, with no audience, and no expectations.

He's ready to come from that thought alone, but he doesn't. Daniel reaches out. "Worry about it later," he says. "Focus."

"Better yet," says Sam, her hips moving against him, "_don't_."

-

They carry the sarcophagus down the ramp on a cart. It's heavy as all hell and Cameron's sore enough without adding that to it. Standing at the head, he glances down at the exquisite carvings and then up at the approaching Landry. "Stopped by the gift shop on the way home, sir. Thought you might like something."

Landry looks at the sarcophagus then at the team. "Anybody look inside?"

"No, sir," says Daniel. "It's been sealed. We wanted to wait for more controlled circumstances."

"He means more heavily armed, sir," says Cameron, ever helpful. He smirks as Sam rolls her eyes. "It looks like whatever's in there was meant to stay there. Someone soldered over the lock. Either way, the Tok'ra should be interested, if the way Jackson's been carrying on means anything."

Sam smothers a laugh while Daniel rolls his eyes. "It looks promising, sir."

"Good," says Landry. "We could use promising around here." He gives the sarcophagus a wary look. "Just the same, put extra guards on this the thing. We all know what happened the last time a queen got loose in here."

"Believe me, sir," says Sam, a note of weariness in her response, "We do."

He nods, striding out of the gate room.

With a little grin, Cameron swivels to face his team. "So," he says, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, "who's writing _this_ report?"


End file.
